


Dank Ass Teen Boy Musk

by yiffymorty



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Coming In Pants, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Grinding, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Underage Sex, grandparent/child incest, musk, sniffing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 17:14:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4843670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yiffymorty/pseuds/yiffymorty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick has a kink he isn't willing to share, until Morty shares it with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dank Ass Teen Boy Musk

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the person on Tumblr who suggested for me to write R/M frottage! I'm also slowly developing a kink for body sniffing, and I, uh. There's a bit of that in here, too.
> 
>    
> Edit: [gilbert-bruegel](http://gilbert-bruegel.tumblr.com) drew some INCREDIBLE fanart for this fic! [Please click here to see it](http://gilbert-bruegel.tumblr.com/post/131589753101/an-illustration-for-yiffymortys-rickmorty-fic) :D

Out of all Rick’s guilty pleasures, this one has to be the most shameful, he thinks, doing a double-take as he passes the laundry room. But shame isn’t enough to keep him from nabbing one of Morty’s shirts from the laundry bin and taking it into his room. He and Morty have lain in bed together, shirtless, more than a couple of times, but this....this is different.

Once in his room, Rick doesn’t bother undressing except for his lab coat and sweater, and he also doesn’t bother to flip the lamp switch before diving into bed. He leans against the wall with the yellow shirt in hand, anticipation coursing through him. Rick presses the fabric to his face and inhales lungfuls of _Morty,_ savoring the boy’s familiar scent. He shoves a hand down his slacks to touch his half-hard cock through his briefs, feeling it twitch against his thigh. The bitter sweat, ripe with teenage hormones and the fading smell of deodorant from the day before, makes Rick lightheaded, a combination of endorphins and the effects of hypocapnia fogging up his brain like a drug.

It’s another sleepless night for Morty, too. The day’s adventure has him wired and uneasy; some things you can see explode a hundred times and it never gets any easier. He is relieved to see the sliver of light under Rick's door on his way back from the bathroom— _thank god he’s awake_ —and without a second thought, Morty enters quietly, carefully closing the door behind him.

His eyes fall on Rick like he’s the only thing in the room. Rick freezes and does the same, certain from the look on Morty’s face that he’s been caught red-handed. 

“O-oh my god, Rick, I’m s-s-sorry,” says Morty, “I’ll j-just—I’ll come back later, u-uh, um.”

Morty pauses. He was never good at math, but he can put two and two together. “Th-th-th-that’s my...m—”

“Yes, _M-Morty,_ ” Rick interjects, “It’s _your_ shirt. You want it back? Is—i-i-is that why you’re here? You’re lookin’ for—for your shirt, Morty?”

“N-no, I—”

“Good answer,” says Rick, giving his clothed dick a squeeze. He flashes Morty a cocky grin, which Morty returns with a glare of his own. He has half a mind to jump on Rick and strangle him with the goddamn shirt himself, but then he figures the old pervert might like that too much.

“H-h-h-how a-are you—how are you gonna explain this one, huh, Rick? Y-you don’t see me goin’—g-goin’ around stealing girls’ panties or what—like a-a-a—a fucking creep! H-h-how often do you do this, huh? I-I-I b-bet you’ve rubbed my shirt all over your cock before, huh? I-I bet you like the texture. Nice amount of—of f-f-friction on your cock? O-o-or is it because it’s your grandson’s t-shirt? Is that th-the thing—is-is that what gets you off, Rick?”

During his heated monologue, Morty must have crossed the room because now he’s standing at the side of Rick’s bed. Startled, Rick blinks at him. “Wh-what’d you expect, Morty? I-I-I-If you don’t want to—don’t go snooping or you might— _euugh!_ —Fuck it. Are you here to help or a-a-are you here to _kinkshame_ me, Morty?” He’s about to hand the shirt back when Morty snorts and cracks a smile.

“Wh-what d’you—what do you think I came in here for, Rick?” chuckles Morty, his voice low and much quieter than his rant not one minute ago. He kneels on Rick’s bed, facing him and stripping off his t-shirt. “I didn’t change for bed yet. Y-y-you’ll appreciate th-this one even more, I bet.”

Without waiting for a response, Morty finds the sleeve where it had been under his armpit the whole day and presses the shirt to Rick’s face. The man inhales deeply and moans on the exhale. He shudders with arousal and grips Morty’s hips with both hands. Morty scoots forwards until he’s straddling Rick’s lap, the t-shirt held over Rick’s nose and mouth. “Can you breathe?” asks Morty, and Rick nods.

Morty braces himself with one hand on the wall behind Rick’s head and starts to move. He rolls his hips slowly at first, gauging Rick’s reaction and cataloguing the little noises he tries not to make. He hadn’t expected to catch Rick in such a vulnerable state. Morty’s glad he did, and so is Rick—he’s needed this, long overdue to give up control.

When Rick tries to speak, Morty presses the shirt harder into his face. “Don’t talk,” he orders, and Rick doesn’t have a problem with that. Morty’s fresh musk pacifies his racing mind. Rick is content to rhythmically grind his erection against Morty’s while he watches the kid’s bare chest heaving and slick with sweat. Morty isn’t all that big in comparison to Rick, but what he lacks in girth, he makes up for in stamina, as illustrated by the kid’s eager and relentless humping.

“F-fuck,” curses Morty, letting the shirt fall between them and hooking an arm around the back of Rick’s neck, “I’m gonna fucking cum.”

Rick groans in Morty’s ear. He loves hearing those words on the lips of his grandson, loves knowing he can bring Morty to orgasm every time.

“Not before I do, y-y-you little—you eager little shit,” Rick growls, digging his nails into Morty’s hips with a little yelp from the boy. Rick slams him down while bucking his own hips up. It only takes a few more thrusts before Rick arches his back and freezes with his hips lifted up off the bed.

Morty feels Rick’s cock pulsing beneath him, and he can tell when Rick is coming while the man bites his own cheek and seethes through his nose. Morty stares, savoring the facial expressions he only gets to see when they do this.

Morty bounces himself in Rick’s lap with abandon, taking advantage of Rick’s cock that has yet to soften. It’s the wetness, however, seeping through four layers of clothing that does him in. Morty catches Rick’s mouth in a heated kiss, and Rick greets him with teeth and tongue and lets Morty suck his bottom lip so hard it’ll probably bruise. He doesn’t care at the moment; all he wants to do is get Morty off the same way he had.

“Cum for me, Morty,” taunts Rick, breaking the kiss to nibble the tender spot just below Morty’s ear. The bulge between Morty’s legs and the attention to his neck is more than he can take; the boy goes rigid as the tension in his stomach unravels and he’s coming, coming hard and soaking his boxers with jizz. He collapses against Rick, both of them panting, sticky messes.

“Man, Rick,” starts Morty, wrapping his arms around Rick’s neck and nuzzling under his chin, “I-if you want to—t-to smell me so bad, y-you don’t need to be all sneaky about it, jeez! I’m—I’d probably smell better th-than my old laundry anyway, s-so...”

“Yeah— _urrrp!_ —I’ll remember that,” mumbles Rick, fighting off sleep. “Now, get offa me. Go get cleaned up while I change, M-Morty—I’m not sleeping in my own load.”

“Ugh, gross, Rick,” whines Morty, making a face, “I’m going, I’m going…”

When Morty returns from the bathroom he joins Rick in bed, draping an arm and a leg over him in order for them both to fit. Morty kisses what he can reach of Rick’s face and neck until he drifts off to sleep, leaving Rick with an armful of the kid who just got him off.

“You don’t know what you do to me, Morty,” whispers Rick, nuzzling Morty’s curls and finally fading into sleep himself.  


**Author's Note:**

> I'm on tumblr at [yiffymorty](http://yiffymorty.tumblr.com). Come sin with me.


End file.
